


Maybe It Was Memphis

by buffydyke



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Country Music, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffydyke/pseuds/buffydyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not love. Not yet, anyway. But when Faith brings her lips to hers, Buffy's closer to home than she's ever been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe It Was Memphis

**Author's Note:**

> _Read about you in a Faulkner novel_   
>  _Met you once in a Williams play_   
>  _Heard about you in a country love song_   
>  _Summer night beauty took my breath away_
> 
> _Maybe it was Memphis_   
>  _Maybe it was Southern summer nights_   
>  _Maybe it was you, maybe it was me_   
>  _But it sure felt right_

"I never pegged you as the country music type, B."

Faith's knuckle deep in her as she says this, shirt raked up and hair tousled to the side, bare breasts gleaming in the pale Tennessee moonlight. Rest stops twenty miles outside of Memphis are things of local legend; popular enough to be useful, but secluded enough that couples can find their own personal escape and ecstasy.

It's funny, really. Buffy had never really pictured the South as a place for escape and ecstasy, but being straddled in the passenger seat of a borrowed car had a way of planting the thought in her mind.

"It's Pam Tillis," Buffy says avertingly, and it's all she can do to keep her voice steady. Faith's fingers are things are things of both angels and demons, of gods and devils. They can make Buffy feel things she'd thought she'd forgotten. "She doesn't count." 

The song lulls soft and lazily through the stereo, one of many Buffy had piled on a disc for their cross country tour of the United States. This is Joyce's music, Buffy thinks, but she pushes the thought away as Faith's lips meet her own, free hand moving to snake idly through her hair. They've been driving for days and fucking for hours, and Joyce Summers would roll in her grave if she knew what her daughter was doing to this CD.

Did her mother even have a grave anymore? 

"She counts," Faith says, and she gives a wicked grin that snaps Buffy back to reality. She swears she could drown in that smile, suffocate from it. The cross of Faith's necklace falls perfectly between her breasts, a mirror of Buffy's own, a black silhouette against the pale plains of her skin. "Kinda hot though. I've fucked to a lotta things, but never country." 

Buffy's never fucked to country, either, but Buffy's never fucked to a lot of things. Music, anyway. Her last escapade had left little to be imagined in terms of places and positions.

It's strange to think that the last guy she slept with is dead.

Faith grinds her hips, deep and slow, jarring her out of the thought. She's fucking her at a pace that drives Buffy wild. With feeling, with want. Hard enough to bring her to the edge, but not enough to push her over it. Everything with Faith makes Buffy wild, leaves her wanting more. She's wanted more since that night in Faith's motel all those years ago. It's funny how some nights can stick with you.

"Harder," Buffy's voice comes out between the ragged breaths and wanton pants. Her eyes threaten to flutter shut, but she forces them open. Faith would want that, want her to see. The windows are well past fogged by this point; anyone in their right mind would know what they're doing, but Buffy can't bring herself to care. "Stop teasing. I-I need it." 

_I need to feel something._

Faith grins, a flash of white against darkness, and crooks her fingers in a way that makes Buffy's jaw go slack. With a flick of her wrist, she's fucking her short and quick, rough and hard. And Buffy has self control, she's a _beacon_ of self control, but she can't stop herself from crying out, from meeting Faith's thrusts, from tangling her fingers through Faith's hair. She's a comet crashing to Earth, and Buffy doesn't mind being in the wake of her aftermath. 

Faith's lips drop down to graze against her breasts, teeth raking against the soft, pale skin. She seizes a nipple between them, firm and supple, rolling it between her teeth. Her thrusts have grown sloppy, but Buffy can't bring herself to care. 

When Buffy comes, it's gasps and fireworks, clenching and pulling at hair. And Faith rocks into her, guides her through it, kisses her long and hard and leaves her wanting more. Always more. Buffy will never get enough of Faith, she thinks, and somehow, that doesn't bother her.

Faith settles back into her lap, fixing her shirt and ruffing her sweat-drenched hair. She's a goddess among mortals, a rarity of a creature that Buffy never thought she'd encounter. An angel flung from Heaven, a demon escaped from Hell.

She's a home that Buffy hadn't known she'd been missing. 

Minutes later, they're curled in the backseat, trying to make the best of the little room they've been granted. They could've stayed in the front, they know, but somehow, that isn't enough for them. It's not close enough.

They'll sleep here tonight. It's cheaper than a motel, Faith reasons, and it's twenty miles to Memphis. They'd never make it.

It's not love. Not yet, anyway. But when Faith brings her lips to hers, Buffy's closer to home than she's ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://wlwbuffy.tumblr.com).


End file.
